


Three Kids and a Hamster

by chatonne-rousse (thefullbeaumonty)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Plans For The Future, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Romantic Fluff, Seriously y'all it's pure fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullbeaumonty/pseuds/chatonne-rousse
Summary: During a sleepy late-night snuggle, Marinette and Adrien talk about their dreams for the future.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 44
Kudos: 271





	Three Kids and a Hamster

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Adrienette Zine](https://issuu.com/adrienette-fanzines/docs/in_20the_20rain_20_e2_80_94_20an_20adrienette_20zi/).
> 
> Special thanks to my zine beta, Star, for proofreading, and my bestie, Chibi, for all the encouragement. 😘

The same full moon that lit their way over rooftops and across the Seine an hour before shines through the hatch above the bed, illuminating their entwined legs in its gentle glow and casting shadows on the room below. Even if she weren't tucked beneath his arm with her cheek against his chest, this would be a place of perfect peace, awash in a sense of rightness and comfort and home. It makes his chest constrict all of a sudden, his next inhale a sharp shudder that rouses her immediately from near-sleep.

"You okay, _Chaton_?" she murmurs, eyes wide and worried.

He reassures her with a soft, genuine smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...thinking."

Bending forward to press a kiss to her forehead, he pulls her back down to his chest and starts up a purr for her. The breathy giggle he gets in return is always worth the twinge of embarrassment and the weird tickle in his throat.

"About what?"

The purr dies down, replaced with a contented hum. "How much I love you, of course, Princess. What else?"

As expected, she swats him playfully and laughs, but a moment later he feels her hand stretch across his torso as she cuddles closer into his side.

"I mean it," she whispers into his shirt. "Your breathing got all weird. What's wrong?"

"Bugaboo, you know you take my breath away!"

"Adrien." 

Her voice is all no-nonsense Ladybug, but it just makes him grin wider.

"I'm actually not _kitten_ , Marinette."

She groans and lifts her head again but when she meets his gaze after an exaggerated eye roll, her features soften in response to his. She begins to duck her head shyly before changing course and pressing her lips to his instead, soft and sweet and warm. His eyes slip shut and he melts beneath her, his ever-romantic heart singing her name over and over in a three-beat cadence.

"I love you, too," she whispers against his lips, finally breaking away after a long, slow kiss that leaves them both breathless.

After a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth and another on his jaw, she settles back into the crook of his neck, her breath warm and tickly and perfect against his skin.

Logically, he knows he needs to transform and head home, but the stark difference between his bedroom prison and Marinette's warmth is enough to keep him here just a little longer, stretching time and tempting fate. 

_Wouldn't it be wonderful_ , he thinks, as the sleepy calm drifts over them once more, _to stay here forever, just like this?_

He imagines waking up this way, morning breath and snoring kwamis and a warm tangle of limbs illuminated by a new day's dawnlight instead of the quiet moon. Perhaps there would be a purring cat asleep on the bed with them. And one day, maybe, he'd wake to find a toddler who had crawled up onto the bed and wriggled between them in the night to be close to maman and papa. A _family_. His heart squeezes with emotion again, but he keeps his breathing steady and Marinette doesn't seem to notice this time.

Dreaming of what the future might hold seems like an extravagant luxury in a world where a supervillain regularly terrorizes Paris and threatens to rend the very fabric of the universe and its delicate balance. Then again, isn't that all the more reason to dream? 

Even with the freedom being Chat Noir grants him, the responsibility of avoiding that fate is a heavy weight across his shoulders, and a far more cumbersome yoke on his Lady's. Imagining a day when they can transform for fun instead of necessity, cook dinner together, fall asleep just like this, and not have to wonder if an akuma alert will rouse them before the sun—well, that just makes him fight each battle harder and despise Hawkmoth that much more. After all, the fate of humanity includes the fate of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too.

Her fingers glide feather-light at his wrist, so he knows she's still awake, and before he can think twice about it, he's murmuring a question into the dark.

"Hey, Bug?" He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Do you ever think about...the future?"

Her hand stops its gentle, soothing motion against his arm, and he misses the feeling immediately.

"After we defeat Hawkmoth, or...?" she trails off.

"That could happen tomorrow, so let's start with tomorrow and go from there."

She resumes her caress, though this time her hand trails higher, up and under his t-shirt sleeve to the warm skin of his bicep. He smiles against her hair and hugs his heat-seeking little bug tighter.

"Well, tomorrow we have a calculus test, then you have a piano lesson after school. I really didn't plan anything beyond that, but if we're going to squeeze in an epic final battle with Hawkmoth, I suppose I should work on my history project at lunch to get ahead."

"Cheeky bug!" He tickles her in retaliation, and she giggles into his chest. "I was being serious!"

"I know, _Minou_." She laughs for another moment but says nothing more. 

He waits through one deep breath, then two, before he whispers her name, questioning, against her hair.

She cranes her neck to look up at him, her gaze shy but warm. "It's just...can I be weird?"

Ah, that explains her reticence. The delighted half-smile that crosses his face is pure Chat Noir, but he can't help it. He _loves_ this. 

"Of course, My Lady. Always."

Five months and four days ago (yes, he's counting—it was the greatest day of his life, so far), after more than three years of superhero partnership and civilian friendship, an unplanned reveal, and the awkward nine day aftermath (yes, he counted—it was awful), they'd finally made it official. Adrien and Marinette had, at least. Ladynoir was still under wraps for now to avoid suspicion, but he looked forward to the day when a real kiss they could both remember would grace the front page of the Ladyblog.

At the beginning, between blissful kisses and timid touches, they'd taken the time to really get to know each other—with no secrets between them, a whole, beautiful picture emerged. It was amazing and thrilling and freeing. It was also a bit embarrassing.

She'd seen him in his Ladybug pajamas one evening when she'd stopped by his bedroom for an unplanned visit. Another afternoon, he'd opened a drawer in her room looking for a pen and discovered approximately two dozen photos of himself looking back at him. Plagg had unceremoniously dropped Adrien's Ladybug and Chat Noir action figures onto Marinette's lap while they watched a movie and proceeded to tell her that Adrien sometimes played with his dolls and made them kiss. He'd never been so mortified in his life (and he once fought an akuma wearing a banana costume, so that was saying something), especially when Marinette had laughed until she cried.

He'd have sentenced the tiny magical agent of chaos to eating Velveeta for a week if Marinette hadn't caught her breath, removed his hands from his beet-red face, and kissed him silly.

Afterward, lovestruck, he'd asked, "So I'm not...weird?"

Cheeks still stained with the sweetest blush, eyes soft and bright and full of love, she'd responded, "Of course you are, kitty. I already knew that," and kissed him again for good measure. "It's a good thing your Lady is just as weird."

And just like that, it was okay. His pajamas, her photo collection, his action figures, her calendar.

 _Can I be weird?_ preceded his admission of being unable to sleep if his Marinette lucky charm wasn't beneath his pillow. It was asked before he learned she slept with her handmade Chat Noir plushie beside her every night. 

The question is rhetorical, of course. Permission to be weird is simply indemnity from embarrassment, a solemn vow of understanding between them. It's been the lead-in to many shared secrets and it still gives him a little thrill every time, just knowing that he's about to learn another closely-held tidbit about his Lady.

Tonight, he's especially curious—the question he asked was about the future, after all.

"I used to think about it a lot," she begins quietly. "And I mean, a _lot_. I'm a planner, you know."

Oh, he knows. Thank goodness one of them is.

"You've seen my sketchbook. You saw my wedding dress designs and all your possible matching tuxes. Alya's dress and Nino's suit..."

"And they were beautiful, Bug. I loved them all."

He can feel her smile against his t-shirt collar.

"Thank you, _Chaton_. But...it's not just that. I, um...I chose the flowers for my bouquet, I planned the menu for the reception dinner—"

"And your parents will make the croquembouche," he whispers, suddenly entranced.

She nods, but goes silent once more. He wants to hear about everything—the venue she imagined for the service and reception, what they'll wear at the civil ceremony prior, whether their guests will throw rice or rose petals or wheat as they exit as newlyweds. It's all so beautiful, his heart is positively singing; how could she ever think this is weird?

"I named our children."

The song in his heart comes to an abrupt stop when the rhythm falters before restarting at hummingbird speed.

Dazed, he breathes, "Our..."

"I know!" she groans. She covers her eyes with one hand and buries her face in his shirt. Her voice is muffled, but he's hanging on every word. "I told you it was weird! I named them! I thought about who would be youngest, oldest, middle--"

"Three?" He chokes on air. Is he even breathing?

"I designed the little outfit we'd bring each of them home from the hospital in. Their nursery had a theme! Our hamster had a name! I imagined our house, our garden, the layout of the kitchen, the color of our master bathroom!"

"What color?" he asks weakly.

A pause.

"Blue."

"I love blue."

"I know."

Silence descends again, as he attempts to regulate his breathing and bring his swirling, scattered thoughts under control. She hasn't moved a muscle, and neither has he. Honestly, he's thankful to be moored to his steadfast port in the storm right now, so he can't float away or slip under.

"Adrien?"

He hums questioningly in response.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is small and tinged with sadness, slicing directly through his current bubble of overwhelmed euphoria in an instant.

Sitting up so quickly that she's dislodged from his side with a startled squeak, he pulls both of her hands between his and brings her close enough to really see her face in the shadowy moonlight.

"Why are you sorry?" he asks, baffled. "That was..." he trails off, shaking his head as he searches for the correct word, wanting to convey his feelings properly. _Incredible_ doesn't seem like enough. _Perfect_ , perhaps? _A dream I didn't know I had until you said it, and now I want that exact thing more than I've ever wanted anything in my life?_

"Crazy, I know. Selfish."

"What? No!" he exclaims, and her wide eyes snap to meet his. "Marinette, it sounds _amazing_!"

"Amazing?"

He lets go of her hands to gather her in a hug instead, happy to feel her arms wrap tightly around him in turn.

"Amazing," he murmurs against her hair, hoping she can hear the sincerity in his voice. "Why do you think it's selfish?"

"Because...because I never thought about what _you'd_ want, not really. Maybe you don't want kids—"

"I want kids," he interrupts.

"Or maybe you don't like hamsters."

"Mari, I love hamsters."

She smiles against his skin. "I'm glad. I thought you'd want a cat."

"Oh, I do," he says, nodding.

"I knew it!" she laughs. "But I didn't know any of that back then. I just dreamed my own wild dreams and brought a fantasy of future you along for the ride. It wasn't fair to you." She leans back, settling her wrists over his shoulders and searching his gaze with her own. "You deserve to have a say in your own life, Adrien. For once."

A wave of stunned gratitude wells up within him and he swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. No one, not even his beloved mother, has ever extended him the courtesy of autonomy, much less apologized for not considering it in the first place. The way Marinette loves him, with a selfless, gentle kindness, is like nothing he's ever known, and it overwhelms him sometimes. 

_Oh, he loves her so much._

"Marinette," he says, when he's able to. "Do you want to live on a desert island with me and eat only fruit for the rest of our lives?"

She blinks, confused.

"Because that was one of _my_ dreams," he continues. "You—well, Ladybug—me, our hamster, and a ton of fruit. Silly, right?" He shrugs. "I was a lovesick teenager. I have a feeling you know something about that, don't you, Bugaboo?" His cheeky wink and Chat Noir smirk are rewarded with the blush and giggle he'd hoped for. "My point is, I wasn't thinking about what you wanted when I daydreamed about that, and I never worried about it. You have nothing to be sorry for, Bug."

Her smile is bright even in the shadowy loft. "Thanks, _Minou_. Those were fun dreams."

"Were? You don't want the hamster and the blue bathroom anymore? I was just getting excited about our house and three kids."

"What do _you_ dream about?" She asks, clearly dodging the question with one of her own.

He doesn't even have to think on it to know the answer.

"A family. Hugs. Eating dinner at a little table together. Going to the beach and seeing you in your bikini."

She snorts. "Tomcat."

"I'm only human, Mari."

"Adrien, you can purr."

"Touché."

They can only laugh. Their lives really are ridiculous.

"Princess?" He asks after they've settled into silence again. "What are their names?"

"Who?"

"Our kids."

She takes a deep, deep breath, and it feels like an eternity before she speaks. "Emma, Louis, and Hugo."

"I love them already," he breathes, imagination awhirl with scenes of bedtime stories and blanket forts and the myriad other childhood joys he only knows about from movies and tv. It's so beautiful, _they're_ so beautiful, that he has to clench his teeth for a moment to keep from crying. "Have you drawn them?"

She nods, brow starting to furrow in concern at what must be one hell of an expression on his face.

"And their clothes? The nursery? Our kitchen?"

"Yes, I told you I was—"

"You're _amazing_ , Marinette. I can't wait to see them. I can't wait to meet them."

Before he knows it, she's pulled him into her embrace, whispering her love against his shoulder. If a few tears escape into her hair, she doesn't say a word. They stay like that for a few long, sweet moments, until a thought pops into his mind.

"Mari? Why didn't Plagg find _those_ drawings when he found your sketchbook of wedding ideas?"

She pulls away from him and giggles. "Because that sketchbook is hidden under the mattress."

"Along with how many of my photos?"

The mock-glare she levels at him would be terrifying if she weren't so adorable. He leans in and watches her stern expression slacken just before their lips connect and his eyes close, and her soft sigh tells him he's forgiven once more for teasing her.

They fall back against the cat pillow and soft pink sheets once more, rearranging their bodies to that perfect fit that reminds him every time how phenomenally lucky he is to have found his soul's other half as a teenager via ancient magic and fated proximity. The kiss deepens, his hands clutch at her back, and he thrills at the feel of her fingers in his hair. This is everything, _everything_ —love and light and power and freedom, the chance for a future, a home, a _family_.

It's just another late autumn Tuesday night in Paris. Marinette will convince him to stay for another hour, he'll set an alarm. They'll go to school again tomorrow and, though it's certainly possible they'll defeat Hawkmoth before the day is over, it's more likely they'll simply fight and cleanse another akuma before returning to the library to work on that history project. 

But it's suddenly different. He's always fought for Paris, for the safety of his friends and family, for his beloved partner. Now? A new and different feeling of protectiveness rises in his chest, even as her tongue brushes the seam of his lips and his purr rumbles gently between their bodies. 

Hawkmoth will rue the day he tried to take Emma, Louis, and Hugo away before Adrien could meet them. He makes the promise right here and now, with his Lady in his arms and their kwamis sleeping on the desk below: Every akuma from now until he can punch Hawkmoth in the face and rip the misused miraculous from him, Chat Noir will fight for Paris, the world, and that shining dream of the future. He's one half of an unstoppable team. Together, they can, and will, do anything.

He and Marinette have three kids and a hamster to look forward to, after all. And it's going to be _amazing_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [chatonne-rousse](https://chatonne-rousse.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come say hi!


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